Slave of Rome, The Emperor's Obsession. Book Two Read Online Free PDF

gazed at the glinting gold as it shimmered in the pale moonlight.  
    And then she got up on her toes, bent forward and kissed his scarred burly cheek. "Thank you," she said. And then added: "Master."
    Part of her was afraid he might become angry at her insolence. But he just stood there, immobile, as if petrified, staring back at her. He stayed silent and having returned the necklace to its box, they walked on down the path to his chambers.
    At one place, just before they had to climb the marble stairs leading into the palace, Myra tripped and fell against him so that Commodus found his hands move up to hold her, so curvy and lithe and at the same time hard and alive that it caused a deep wave of emotions to wash over his body.
    And then he picked her up. She sensed his muscular body as she draped an arm around his neck and allowed him to carry her in. He walked so fast, that for a moment she thought he was running but his breath was slow and measured, his gate determined and deliberate. When they reached the third floor of the cavernously empty palace they soon arrived by a room where a single large bed occupied the center. It looked scary and beautiful at the same time.
    The bedroom itself had to be larger than the her entire house back home. Severe dark furniture was tastefully spread around the interior: a massive desk with oodles of papers, and the sculpture of a lion on the edge. A thick, plush carpet with silken designs of people in strange headgear chasing after big tusked animals she had never seen before, dominated its center. Commodus laughed, a beautiful deep sound that gave an outlet to some internal source of amusement. She shot him a glare and before she could check her disrespectful frown, he noticed it. Instead of getting angry, Commodus actually made as if cowering in feigned shame. A small smile illuminated his beautiful lips.
    "You look like you have never been in a house," he smiled more broadly and took off his sandals of polished military leather.
    "I have never been in a house such as this ," she said softly as she stepped forward and allowed her toes to sink into the rug. "It's beautiful," she whispered, "the carpet, the furniture, the..." The bed…
    "Not as beautiful as you", he almost said but stopped himself in time. Instead he reached and took the box with the necklace that she was still clasping in her hand. He opened it and gently held out the heavy gold chain.  
    Then he carefully took her by the shoulder and turned her so that she now had her back to him. She whimpered, a velvety soft sound so youthful and so shy, that it sent the emperor's ears ringing. Careful, so as not to touch her skin lest he completely lose control, he slowly and deliberately brushed her long black curls that cascaded down her back to the side. This revealed her neck, its form gracefully flowing to her back. He kept his eyes fixed on the gold links in his hands because looking at her delicate skin, so close to his touch, a sheen of perspiration making it glisten in the shimmering candlelight, confused him so much. He passed the chain around her neck and attached the two ends together firmly clasping it in place. The chain itself wasn't long and once in place, it looked more like an extravagant collar than a sumptuous necklace. He loved it.
    Myra's entire body felt the cold metal as it went around her neck and clicked into place. She hiccuped and as if out of nowhere despair and loneliness welled up inside her, and she just couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
    Here she was, in the room of a man she hardly knew, by a bed not her own, at the threshold of an unknown path that could easily lead to perdition. For an instant she felt feint and lightheaded. It was either do what she had to, sleep with the emperor, be his concubine, or face a life of poverty, brutish and short, witness her husband join the legions and go away to fight and probably die in some unknown faraway place, see her brother perish from hunger and sickness